


Fool in the Rain

by cobrien99



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Human, Destiel - Freeform, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Humor, M/M, My First Destiel Fanfic, not as damaging as twist and shout, patients
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-02-14 01:27:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 7,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2172741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cobrien99/pseuds/cobrien99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Castiel are forced together by fate, or rather an over-booked hospital. They end up sharing a more... profound bond than most roomates. Hospital patient AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Hate To Think I've Been Blinded Baby

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! You can tell it's fanfiction season when you start googling things like "Dean and Cas meaningful look" for a cover. I've been working on this story for weeks and have finally deemed it publishable! The title of the story and the opening quote come from the Led Zeppelin song "Fool in the Rain". Just for the first chapter, I gave us a little insight into Dean's thoughts. However, I highly doubt I will give more than Castiel's thoughts for the rest of the story, as it gets a tad tedious jumping back and forth. I just wanted a bit of Dean's imput on their first meeting. Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!

_I hate to think I've been blinded baby._

"Hey there."

Castiel looked up to see someone occupying the other hospital bed. Up until then he had been alone. He had mused to himself not two hours earlier how lucky he was to be the sole occupant of the small hospital room. _Oh well_ , he thought, _all good things must come to an end_.

"I was wondering when you'd wake up." the man continued, "I'm Dean."

Dean had an air of confidence about him that Castiel admired. His nose was covered in a thick bandage, probably broken. His wrist was bandaged as well, but not in a cast, so it was most likely a sprain. Even in his state, looking pale and tired in a flimsy hospital gown, he smiled. It was a cocky smile, large and white, framed by dimples and a spray of freckles across his nose. He had green eyes that shone brightly in the dark room. Little crinkles formed in the corners of his eyes as he smiled, adding to the beauty. And Dean was a beautiful man, Castiel thought. He soon realized he was staring, something he did often that tended to rub people the wrong way. Castiel looked down at his hands, noting how they folded just-so in his lap, right over left.

"Hello Dean. I'm Castiel." He found himself replying, looking up once more at Dean.

Those green eyes met his and he couldn't help cracking a little smile, a rare occurrence.

"Castiel." Dean repeated, the name rolled off his tongue and his smile grew even brighter. "Nice to meet you."

He winked, and Castiel couldn't help but shiver.

"It is enjoyable to meet you as well, Dean."

Castiel felt his own smile grow larger to mirror Dean's, a foreign feeling. He was usually the quiet type but this attractive stranger brought out something different in him. Castiel couldn't help thinking his hospital stay had gotten much better.

* * *

Dean saw the man across from him begin to stir. He had been out cold since Dean was transferred to the room half an hour before. The nurse had only just left. Dean's insides felt like shit after the splenectomy. His ribs were still bugging him as well. It didn't seem fair to him that the asshole hitting on Charlie got away with less damage.

They had been at the bar, minding their own business, when the guy started hitting on her. He was a big dude, well over six foot (almost as tall as his brother) and ripped. When Charlie politely told him she played for the other team, he freaked out. So Dean intervened and sent the guy packing.

They had thought that was the end of it, but oh how wrong they were. Later, walking back to his car after wishing Charlie goodnight, the guy approached him and started yelling. When the guy got physical, Dean socked him. The man didn't take too kindly to that, and it wasn't long before the guy had Dean on the ground, breaking his nose and spraining his wrist in the process. He kicked Dean enough that his eighth and ninth ribs broke, rupturing his spleen. Some bystanders called 911 and that was that. The attacker ran off. They still hadn't found the bastard.

As the man began to stir, Dean took in his features. From what Dean could see the guy was pretty damn attractive. His face was partially buried in his pillow but Dean could see a strong jaw with stubble cropping up along it. The man crinkled his nose, adding a layer of 'cute' to the drop dead sexy.

"Hey there." Dean greeted as the man rolled over and opened his eyes, a shocking shade of blue that not many could pull off. He had the best case of sex hair Dean had ever seen.

There was now no doubt in Dean's mind, this man was gorgeous.

"I was wondering when you'd wake up. I'm Dean."

Dean turned on his sexiest smile, the one he knew drove the ladies and fellas nuts.

Man that guy was staring at him. Dean wasn't sure if it turned him on or freaked him out. Maybe a cocktail of the two. Either way, Dean was disappointed when the man looked down, those eyes no longer on him. However, the disappointment was short lived, the stranger speaking after only a beat.

"Hello Dean. I'm Castiel." His voice was low and gravelly, not exactly what Dean expected. But God, it was hot. His eyes lifted up once more and he smiled. A little smile, just a slight quirk of his mouth. Dean liked his smile.

"Castiel," Dean repeated. He liked the way it sounded, rolling softly off his tongue. He felt his smile grow brighter. It was such a weird name, but it suited him. Maybe Castiel's parents were hippies. "Nice to meet you." He winked, ever the charmer.

"It is enjoyable to meet you as well, Dean."

Castiel's smile grew bigger, as if to mirror Dean's. Some of the gum above his teeth showed, making it even cuter. It was endearing, that smile. Dean found he enjoyed making him smile. Cas seemed more reserved, not the type to show emotion often.

Dean couldn't help thinking his hospital stay had gotten much better.


	2. Why Don't You Show Up, Make It All Right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two strolls down memory lane...but not the good kind. Warning: possibly some feels ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2! It has arrived. Please bookmark, like, comment, etc. You know the drill! If you notice any mistakes please let me know and I'll be sure to correct them! Thanks for reading! Once again the story's title as well as the chapter's are from Led Zeppelin's Fool in the Rain.

_Why don't you show up, make it all right?_

The room lapsed into silence. Cas could feel his heart beating faster than normal. He had been flirting. The very thought made him want to scream. Dean was handsome. Beautiful, even. But Castiel didn't flirt. Forming attachments was bad. How could he forget that? He sure as hell remembered now. Attachments were messy, and always tumbled by the most petty of arguments. Someone always got hurt.

Castiel picked up his book for where it lay on the side table. He didn't look at Dean. If he couldn't see him, he wasn't there. The book was an assurance he wouldn't be bothered. Not many people bother those with a book in their hands, lest they seem rude.

"Whatcha' reading, Cas?" Dean leaned forward, forearms on knees. Despite his best effort, Cas looked up. Blue eyes met green. Cas couldn't help but blush. _Messy._

" _Route 666_." Castiel replied quietly. He found himself embarrassed. He knew it was cheesy, he really did. The whole series was for that matter. the _Supernatural_ series by Carver Edlund gained a cult following in the mid-eighties despite atrocious writing. Castiel often found himself thinking that he could do a better job.

Yet Castiel picked them up time and time again. He supposed it was sentiment. Reading those books with his brother was the best part of his childhood. When Michael and Lucifer fought (nearly every night), Gabriel would read to him. Even now, as Castiel read, it was almost as if Gabriel read along with him.

"What's it about?" Dean asked, his faced lighting up.

He looked interested.

"Two brothers travel the country hunting ghosts and demons and such." He gave Dean a sheepish smile.

If possible, Dean's face lit up even more. His expression reminded Castiel of a child, so happy and bright.

"Do you mind if I look at it?"

Castiel tossed the book gently to the other man's bed. Dean's eyes glanced appreciatively over the shirtless men on the front cover. Looking up, he smirked and waggled his eyebrows. Castiel felt a blush creep up his neck. Dean flipped it over and read the blurb, looking to Castiel afterward, raising his eyebrows in a silent question.

"You can borrow it if you like," Castiel heard himself say.

_Messy_ , his brain supplied once more.

"Really?" Dean nearly shouted, "Thanks," he added, remembering his manners.

"My pleasure."

"I guess having a roommate ain't so bad after all," Dean winked, a sleazy grin on his face.

Castiel blushed. He held eye contact, praying Dean wouldn't notice the rosy tint to his cheeks. He couldn't show the _messy_ effect Dean was having on him.

Dean kept the stare going, his heavily lidded eyes crinkling at the edges. Castiel wouldn't mind seeing those eyes closer up. The green shone brightly from across the room, but Castiel imagined they were so much more up close. Dean licked his lips, causing the other man's eyes to flit to his mouth.

A cough from the doorway broke the tension. Meg. A petite and sassy brunette, Meg was by far Castiel's favorite nurse. Not that he'd admit it.

"Enough with the eye sex, Clarence."

Meg smirked at Dean before crossing to stand by Castiel.

"Clarence?" He saw Dean mouth from over Meg's shoulder, looking confused.

Castiel gave a little shrug before turning to the nurse, "We weren't… I still don't know who Clarence is," he commented, brow furrowing.

"It's because you're my angel, kiddo," she explained.

Behind her, a look of understanding dawned on Dean's face. Castiel grumbled something about his consistent lack of understanding and Meg laughed.

"You're still my saving angel, despite how clueless you are. So how are you feeling?"

Dean, sensing it was private, put on his headphones. Castiel was glad. Removing the tumor had made him feel like crap but overall he felt better, he explained to Meg.

As he spoke, he watched Dean. He seemed to get in a zone. eyes closed he strummed air guitar and drummed to the music, bobbing his head. The volume was up enough Castiel could hear it faintly from across the room. Though he couldn't tell you the bands or songs, he recognized a few tunes. It seemed to be classic rock. Meg finally left after what seemed an eternity, and Dean removed his headphones.

After a few more minutes of awkward silence, Dean spoke. "So you really don't know who Clarence is?'

No. I'm afraid I don't understand that reference."

"Dude, _It's a Wonderful Life._ They play it constantly around Christmastime."

"I've never been one for celebrating holidays." Castiel replied after a moment.

"That's no excuse! Hell, I spent my childhood living in motels and I've seen that movie," seeing Cas' hurt expression he added in a gentler tone, "hey, its okay. It's December so we won't seem like total assholes if we watch a Christmas movie or two. Next time my brother comes to visit I could ask him to bring a DVD. Whaddya' say?"

Dean's smile had morphed into a sweeter, more genuine one and he looked almost bashful.

"That sounds enjoyable Dean. I look forward to it. You have a brother?" Castiel asked, changing the subject.

Dean took on a fond expression.

"Yeah, Sammy. He's my only brother, that I know of. With Dad though I wouldn't be too surprised if he had another kid he wasn't telling us about," Dean barked out a bitter laugh."He was a mess after Mom died… it was really bad." A wave of emotion washed across Dean's face. Just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the indifferent mask once more. Dean's voice was detached, as if telling someone else's story. At that moment Castiel could tell Dean's father was emotionally and possibly even physically, abusive. It dredged up old memories of Castiel's family, making him shudder. _Messy._

Dean continued, " Sam and I have always stuck together. We were… are as close as two people can be. He's my little brother, you know? I've got to look out for him." Realizing he had just overshared, Dean cleared his throat and looked away.

When he next spoke, his voice was gruff, "What about you- any siblings?'

Castiel nodded slowly.

"Three, all older than me."

"Names?"

"Lucifer, Michael and Gabriel," seeing Dean's confused expression he added, "Naomi, my mother, was very religious. My father… Wasn't around much, never actually. Being the youngest, I was always blamed for him leaving. Naomi did what she thought was right for us. She was in the wrong, but I suppose it's the thought that counts. We were just children. She expected too much, punishing us harshly for our mistakes. When she died Michael was twenty, Lucifer seventeen. Michael was no better than our mother, worse even. He and Lucifer always fought. Gabriel, though he was so young himself, protected me from the worst of our brothers' wrath. He'd distract me from the yelling with books. We'd read together. My brother, he…" Castiel took a deep breath, not believing how much he shared. "He loved the _Supernatural_ books. They were an escape for him, a way out. I guess that's why I still read them, it'd make him happy.

"He died when I was 15…" Castiel let the sentence hang in the air, not elaborating on his brother's death."After that the authorities found out about Michael and Lucifer. I was put in a foster home but… I didn't stay long. I ran. I have no clue where my brothers are now, and ,frankly, I don't care."

After he finished talking he was met with silence. Dean just watched him with wide eyes. _Messy._ Castiel had messed up.

"Dean, I'm sorry I dumped all of-"

The other man interrupted, "Shit, Cas. Don't apologize, I should be the one apologizing. Your story makes mine look like a walk in the park." Dean smirked.

If it were anyone else that sentence would be insensitive, not with Dean. He understood. That was just Dean… Dealing with the shitty hand he was given.

"I don't know if I'd say that, Dean. I think we're in the same boat."

He gave Dean a smile smile. _Messy._

"I guess so, Castiel."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know it isn't December and normally I don't like things out of season but it just... happened. And the way this story is going it will probably stretch on into December (real time). Thanks for reading!


	3. And You Thought It Was Only In Movies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. It's really short. But I published it on time! That's something right? I've just been swamped with school and having some major writer's block. Maybe that's no excuse, I don't know. Once again, please tell me if there are any mistakes, I cranked this out pretty quickly and might have made an error. Story and chapter title from Fool in the Rain by Led Zeppelin, again.

_And you thought it was only in movies  
As you wish all your dreams would come true_

Dean and Castiel's friendship (or courtship, depending on how you looked at it) progressed steadily throughout the evening. It was natural, as if they were always meant to meet.

As they talked, Castiel couldn't help his defenses lowering. He became more open, more talkative, sharing little tidbits about his personal life. He told Dean about his job at Kripke Publishing Company and his boss Pamela. He shared anecdotes about his cat Balthazar and the trouble he always seemed to get himself into. He even mentioned the few friends, coworkers really, he had.

Along the way, he began to unravel the enigma that was Dean. He learned about Dean's two jobs, to support both himself and Sam (who was still working his way through highschool). Even with Dean's two jobs and Sam's one, Sam would end up relying on scholarships and loans to make his way through law school.

He learned about Dean's love of classic cars, including his 1967 Chevy Impala (or as Dean affectionately referred to it, his 'Baby'). Cas, never especially interested in cars, made a mental note to google the car later.

They talked about literature (mostly Vonnegut), music (Dean appalled at Castiel's disinterest in classic rock), movies (Castiel displeasing Dean once more with his lacking knowledge of pop culture) and just life in general. They talked all night, not ceasing until both were on the precipice of sleep.

Castiel's last thought before sleep took hold was that maybe, just maybe, something could work. For the first time in months (possibly years), he looked forward to waking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think and bookmark and kudos it to let me know you want more. Thanks for reading!


	4. Now My Body Is Starting To Quiver

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's still short... I know. Sorry. Please favorite, follow, etc. Led Zeppelin owns the story and chapter titles.

Now my body is starting to quiver.

The following morning, as Dean read, he heard a nervous whisper.

“Dean?”

The first thing around the doorway was Sam’s moppy head of hair, followed by the rest of his head as he craned his neck, searching for his brother.

“Yeah, Sammy?”

Dean rolled over to face his brother, smiling. The teen’s face lit up, beaming at Dean as he rushed forward to hug him. Dean winced as Sam scooped him up in a hug, forgetting Dean’s injuries. He threw  It’s A Wonderful Life (and an assortment of other DVDs) on the bed, having been texted to bring them the night before.

“Slow down, Sammy-” Dean winced once again. “ I’m not quite in fighting shape yet.”

The exuberant teen stepped back sheepishly before he began talking, too fast to understand. Dean only caught a few words, “missed” and “awesome” and “dog” plus what sounded like “shoe” and “sucked” but Dean couldn’t quite grasp the meaning. He was afraid Sam would have a heart attack if he asked for a repeat. So Dean just nodded along, feigning understanding. Occasionally he tried to shush Sam, not wanting to wake Castiel, but to no avail. Fortunately, it appeared Cas was in a deep sleep, for the time being.

After Sam rambling on about his weekend at Bobby’s for what seemed like a year, Charlie arrived. She burst in, a whirlwind of red hair and novelty t-shirts.

“What’s up, bitches?” She nearly yelled as she plopped down in the chair next to Dean’s bed that, in his excitement, Sam had not yet claimed.

“Hey, that was mine!” Sam shouted indignantly as Dean tried frantically to shush them, similar to misbehaving children.

“I didn’t see your ass on it.” Charlie stuck out her tongue and ground her bottom down on the seat, sneering at Sam. Castiel stirred across the room. 

Dean froze in place. Shit. Castiel sat up, rubbing his eyes and yawning. He stretched his arms over his head, t-shirt riding up to reveal the taut skin beneath. Dean would have been overjoyed at the scene if not for the fact Cas was about to meet the family. Castiel looked up, smiling blearily at Dean, seemingly oblivious to the other people in the room. Dean’s heart fluttered in his chest.  Damn it, not now , Dean thought. It was never good to get an awkward boner with your brother and best friend in the room.

“Good morning, Dean.” Castiel’s voice was, by some sort of dark magic, Dean was sure, sexier than usual.

“Sorry we woke you, Cas. Castiel this is Sam and Charlie; Sam and Charlie, Cas.”

As he spoke, Charlie’s cheshire cat grin grew, if possible. She turned to Dean, obviously sensing his discomfort. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to dispel the heat creeping up it. He was so obvious even Sam could tell. His back grew rigid with shoulders squared as he and Charlie exchanged glares. He silently begged her to not, well, not be Charlie. Not embarrass him. Dear God, no.

The redhead winked. She picked up her chair, holding it to her rear as she crossed the room. She’d be damned if Sam ever got that chair. As she sat herself down by Cas’ bed, she extended a hand. Before accepting it, Castiel glanced to Dean for confirmation it wasn’t some strange prank. All he could offer for reassurance was a bashful smile and shrug. Castiel accepted the hand gingerly, unsure.

As Castiel shook her hand, she leaned forward and whispered something. No matter how hard he strained his ears, Dean couldn’t hear it. Cas nodded. Finally Charlie released his hand, standing. She winked at the blue eyed man.

“Nice to meet you, Cas.”

Charlie began her chair-laden waddle across the room, plopping back beside Dean’s bed. 

“What’d you say?” Dean leaned over, whispering.

“None of your beeswax,” Charlie chirped.

“And you as well, Charlie.” Castiel finally broke through his confusion to respond to the redhead.

“So..” Charlie started as if initiating small talk, not something far more sinister. “ He’s dreamy, huh?”

Dean groaned internally as all the blood rushed to his face and Cas looked up in surprise.  He could practically hear the gears turning in his visitors’ heads. He settled his face in his hand and prepared for a long hour of NOT strangling Charlie and his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? Please let me know! Thanks for reading!


	5. And The Thrill of Your Touch Gives Me Fright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5! Yes! I haven't missed a single Tuesday so I'm super proud. I actually loved how this chapter went although, once again, it's shorter than I would have liked. Damn school. Please review, bookmark and kudos! If there are any errors, let me know and I'll fix them. Title of the chapter and the story from Led Zeppelin's Fool in the Rain. As usual.

_And the thrill of your touch gives me fright_

The four settled into easy conversation, interrupted only by lapses of awkward silence when Charlie made inappropriate comments. Aside from that, Castiel got along well with Dean's brother and best friend. For reasons he wouldn't address, this made Dean very happy. As Cas and Charlie bantered, he could hardly contain a smile. Cas was obviously intelligent and quick witted and funny (whether or not he meant to be or not). Occasionally his and Dean's eyes would meet, sending Dean's stomach fluttering and his cheeks reddening. Castiel would give him a smile as Charlie recounted adventures, his gaze locked with Dean's.

While he was glad Castiel got along so swimmingly with those closest to him, there were disadvantages. The aforementioned anecdotes for one thing, many of which contained embarrassing tidbits about Dean. Several times he found himself having to intercept Charlie before the stories got too out of hand. At one point, too caught up in mapping the angle of Cas' jaw with his eyes and committing it to memory, he didn't hear the start to a particularly embarrassing story. He was awakened from his thoughts by Castiel turning, bemused, to meet his eyes.

"...and there he was, completely wasted, standing on the pool table, buck naked except her little, lacy, pink panties!" Charlie concluded before hunching over, tears streaming down her face as she laughed.

As the redhead's laughter filled the room, bouncing around the small space, the others joined in. Dean feeling a blush creep up his neck, buried his face in his hands. He kept it there for several minutes until ,finally, the laughter subsided into small snorts and giggles. Looking up, his green eyes met Cas' blue. There was laughter in Cas' eyes, but he didn't appear to be mocking or judging him. More than anything, Castiel seemed amused.

"Is that true, Dean?" Cas inquired, smiling softly.

Dean nodded sheepishly.

"I wouldn't mind seeing that," Castiel said in a hushed tone. As he realized what he'd said, his face grew red. Despite that, he continued the eye contact, daring Dean to look away first. Sam and Charlie exchanged glances.

The two men held the gaze for only a moment, the buzz of Charlie's phone breaking the silence. Charlie glanced down to read the text, mouth moving silently over the words.

"It's been real, you guys," Charlie snarked, standing up and stretching. "Unfortunately, the ol' ball and chain wants me home, so I've gotta be going. I don't want to miss out on the sex."

"Alright, give Dorothy my regards." Dean saluted Charlie as she walked to the doorway, pausing for a moment.

"Will do. Peace out, bitches." And with that, the redhead was gone.

Not long after, Sam left, claiming homework as his excuse. And, he added silently, to get away from the flirting. The second reason was communicated through nothing but an eyebrow raise and a pointed look, a means of communication understandable only to Dean.

Dean and Castiel chatted idly for a few minutes, nothing but small talk. It was as if they had forgotten to function around each other without visitors in the room. There was a static in the room, as if before a storm. Dean couldn't quite name it, or explain it, but it was far from unpleasant.

Dean found his hands sweaty and his mouth dry, nervously asking Cas if he wanted to watch _It's A Wonderful Life_. When Castiel agreed and padded over, barefoot, to Dean's side of the room, Dean could scarcely hear himself think over his thumping heart. Castiel grabbed the DVD case, removing the disk and inserting it into the player beneath the mounted TV. Exhaling shakily, Dean scooted over and made room for Cas. He patted the bed beside him, praying he wasn't making a mistake and offending Cas. The other man obliged willingly, placing himself beside Dean. He smiled sheepishly at Dean, looking bashful. Dean willed himself to smile back, thankful he wasn't the only nervous one.

Dean found himself unable to concentrate. Well, concentrate on the movie. He had no problem noticing the press of Castiel's arm and leg against his, on his right side. He had no problem noticing how every hair on his arm stood at attention along the touch, like he had received a shock. He could count the threads of Castiel's socks, his senses alert and hyper-aware. There was a hole in one, a toe poking through the top. He continued his watch of the man's feet. If he looked up and to the right, Castiel would be so close. So close Dean's nose could almost touch his cheek, if only he leaned in slightly. And he would. He knew he couldn't resist it if he tried: couldn't resist a kiss on the stubbly cheek, on the chapped lips. Son instead he focused on the socks, seldom glancing up at the screen. Even when he did, he didn't see a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	6. The Palms of My Hands Getting Wet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus chapter for you lovelies! But have no fear, there will be the regular chapter posted tomorrow. This is my way of apologizing for the hasty and short chapters as of late.

_And the palms of my hands getting wet_

As he lay beside Dean, Castiel did not freak out. He made sure of that. He focused on calming the mess that was his stomach, the butterflies fighting desperately to escape. He did not let them. He kept calm, willing his heart to stop its wild romp within his chest. But who was he kidding? Castiel was lying in a bed, a small bed, next to a gorgeous man who was, without a doubt, out of his league. He had a right to be nervous. He could feel Dean beside him, his arm and leg in line with his own. At one point, as Dean turned to say something to him, he could feel his hot breath against his neck. But Castiel remained calm, trying his damndest to focus on the movie. Knowing Dean, he would want to discuss the film afterwards and Castiel would NOT be caught off guard. As the credits rolled, Dean turned toward him, face splitting into a grin.

“What’d you think?” His voice was eager and his eyes bright.

“I quite enjoyed it. However, I do not think Meg’s pet name for me is accurate. I’m hardly an angel.”

Dean’s eyes dropped away and his lips moved silently, as if he were considering what to say.

“I dunno man, you seem pretty angelic to me.”

Dean met his eyes once more. In that moment, Castiel’s senses spiked, and he saw everything. He became acutely aware of every detail. It occurred to Castiel how close they were. Mere inches separated, Castiel would only need to lean slightly and they would touch. He could count the freckles, the eyelashes, the shades of green within those bottomless eyes. Messy. God he wanted messy. He wanted it like he had never wanted before. Fuck the consequences, fuck the world, he wanted Dean. He wanted Dean’s full lips on him, and he wanted his lips on Dean. He wanted to be closer, so much closer, to Dean. He wanted the smell of Dean, faint in the air, all around him. He felt drunk around Dean, unable to think clearly. Hell, he didn’t want to think clearly. Dean. Dean. Dean. It became a chant in his mind, a mantra. Castiel felt slumbering and awoken, all at once. There was an electricity, a high running through his veins. Adrenaline. He was so close…

But Castiel was scared. He was scared he would hurt, or be hurt by, this man in front of him. Every past relationship, romantic or not, ended badly. So he kept his distance, separating himself from the pack. Never getting too close, too attached. God he was sick of the distance, sick of the constant fear of rejection, of pain. He wanted to be close. Close to Dean. And they were. So, so close.

They stayed there, minds locked unknowingly in a dance, silently pushing back and forth. Without words, each dared the other to make the first move, to take the plunge. But they were scared, that much was obvious. For seconds or hours, neither was sure, Dean and Castiel remained within that stare.

Neither knew who broke first, who cleared their throat and hoarsely suggested another film. But one did. The spell was broken. It still lurked nearby, waiting to ensnare them once more, waiting until they decided it was worth the risk.

But for the time being, Dean and Castiel were content. Content in this hesitant dance, this tiptoeing about each other. And so they remained.

The room was heavy, stifling. The charge remained within the air, the electric tension hovered over them like a storm cloud. But neither acknowledged it. They watched another two, maybe three, movies. Castiel wasn’t sure. He didn’t see a damn thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! You know what to do ;). Kudos, comment, bookmark, subscribe, etc. Please and thank you!


	7. Ain't So Hard to Recognize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel are in a... compromising situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was a smart move on my part to post the bonus chapter yesterday, as today's ended up being short due to school obligations (and writer's block). Hopefully these two chapters combined are enough to tide you over! Thank you to all of the reviewers and followers, who make my day. The story title is taken from Led Zeppelin's Fool in the Rain. This week's chapter title is taken from The Rain Song (also by Zeppelin, but at least I'm switching it up a bit!).

_Ain't So Hard to_ _Recognize_

The next day, a Wednesday, started slowly, as if the sun was hesitant to rise. But hey, Dean couldn't blame it. He was content and comfortable and warm. He didn't want those feelings to end. Someone was wrapped around Dean, strong arms and legs cradling him and a stubbly chin resting upon his head. If this was a hookup, he found himself thinking, the sex must have been amazing. He hadn't felt like this in months. Hell, he hadn't felt like this in _years._ He burrowed closer to the man, burying his face in the solid chest and inhaling. Wait, what man? He opened his eyes slowly, raising them to the face beside him. Castiel. Had he… Had he slept with Cas? It was early, and his brain was hesitant to remember. Dean looked up and down himself, then Cas. Nope, fully clothed.

Dean's memory came back, piece by piece. No sex. Their movie marathon had lasted late into the night. They had fallen asleep beside each other. At some point during their slumber, they had gotten tangled up in an unknowing cuddle. Simple as that. Just a misunderstanding. This could happen between friends, right? Of course it could, he decided. He wasn't sure if he was disappointed or relieved.

As Dean mulled over the best way to sneak from the bed unnoticed, the man beside him stirred. Castiel lifted his arm away from Dean, stretching his arm above his head and yawning. For the time being, he was ignorant of Dean. Dean had but a moment before it turned very awkward, very fast. Blue eyes met green. Dean watched the emotions roll across the other man's face. Fear to confusion to understanding to embarrassment, all within the span of a second, barely a tick of the clock. They were close, so close.

They froze, neither sure how to diffuse the tension. Luckily they didn't have to.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Meg was propped against the door frame, holding two trays of breakfast. Without waiting for a reply she wandered in, setting the food on the cart beside Dean's bed.

Almost in unison, the two men shot apart, scooting to opposite ends of the bed. Castiel placed himself at the foot of the bed, not meeting either of his companions' eyes. Any other time, Dean would have been enamored by the obviously flustered Cas. _I fucked up. You fucked up so bad, Winchester,_ Dean thought, internally scolding himself.

Meg plopped into a chair, grinning at the two blushing men.

"I thought you two would be hungry. If you ever left the bed, that is." She winked lasciviously, enjoyed the discomfort.

"It's not…" Dean struggled to explain as he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Nothing happened, I swear. We were just… watching movies-"

"And we fell asleep!" Castiel interjected, attempting to clarify.

"Yeah, we fell asleep… Nothing happened."

Meg heaved a dramatic sigh, standing. "Well that's disappointing. I can't stand liars. I guess I'll have to find juicy gossip elsewhere. Have fun, you two." And with that she was gone, leaving them to stew in the silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! What did you think?


	8. Darling So It Goes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm posting so late but here it is, the new chapter! The title is from Only Fools Rush In by Elvis Presley. I know, I know, Twist and Shout feels. I couldn't help myself. No death or sadness though, I promise. Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!

_Darling so it goes, some things are meant to be_

As the days passed, Castiel and Dean fell into a hesitant routine. Family members or friends of Dean would visit in the mornings, bringing tidings of DVDs and sometimes, if they could sneak it past the nurses, burgers and fries. Over the course of the week, Castiel had met Sam, Charlie, Dorothy, Lisa, Bobby, Ellen, Joe, Rufus, Benny and Elizabeth. Dean made sure to introduce Cas and include him in every conversation. And Castiel felt as if he belonged. For once in his life, he considered himself surrounded by friends. These people, near strangers, enjoyed his company and were not greeting him as colleagues, as those he had previously considered friends. Come to think of it, he had not seen or heard from any of his friends since he entered the hospital. But he had been accepted ,almost organically, into Dean's family, a tight-knit group not necessarily bound by blood, but something that ran deeper. It was indescribable, this bond, and for once, Castiel didn't need nor want a definition. He was content. After the initial meetings, no one thought once about treating Castiel as one of their own. Ellen began bringing an extra casserole helping just for him, along with Dean's. Jo began treating him just as she treated Dean, as an older brother. Elizabeth, Benny's five year old daughter, spent her visits by Castiel's side, talking his ear off. They all took to him in different ways but there was no doubt about it, they loved him as one of their own.

However, Castiel's admittance to the family had its disadvantages, mostly for Dean. His transparency when it came to Castiel was alarming. He spent every one of his family's visits being sent knowing glances and trying not to blush. There wasn't a single person who couldn't see right through him. Even little Elizabeth knew, frequently asking Dean in a sing-song voice if he and Cas had been K-I-S-S-I-N-G. God, Dean wished they had.

Neither of the men knew how much longer they could last, the electric current running through the air nearly too much to handle. Both were on the verge of insanity. It was a constant tension, a constant never acknowledged but always felt. And it was hell.

The dam broke on a Sunday. Dean and Castiel were side by side on the bed, watching The Princess Bride in comfortable silence. The tension was almost forgotten. Almost. It hung in the background, in the peripheral, not quite touching them but still a noticeable presence. They had both elected to ignore it, focusing on the present rather than the future. The present was simple, easy but the future was full of what-ifs and maybes.

As the credits rolled, Dean turned expectantly to Castiel, a mere inch or two from touching.

"So, what'd you think?"

"It was quite romantic, Dean."

The room grew silent. Dean licked his lips, unsure of what to say. So he said nothing. He focused on slowing his breath, steadying his hands, quenching the blush rising in his cheeks. But it was easier said than done. God he was nervous. Was it going to happen? Was he going to kiss Castiel? Was Castiel going to kiss him? What if Castiel didn't want it? Oh Lord. Why am I so nervous? I'm never this nervous.

"Can I…" Dean licked his lips once more, a nervous tick. He started again. "Can I kiss you?"

"As you wish." Castiel's voice was a low growl, deeper than usual. He grinned, something glinting in his eye. Humor? Excitement? Nervousness? Dean couldn't tell. Maybe all three.

Castiel's lips clashed with Dean's before he had finished his trail of thought. His lips were soft and warm and chapped and wonderful. Dean wouldn't mind doing this forever. For the rest of his life, even. God, he was just now kissing this guy and already head over heels. Damn, I've got it bad. Dean felt a moan escape as Castiel's tongue pressed in, hurried and rough, but not unpleasant. The exact opposite of unpleasant, to be exact. Another moan escaped and dear God I sound like a pornstar.

On the other end of things, Castiel seemed to be enjoying himself. He was positioned on top of Dean, ducking his head to kiss Dean fervently. His breath came in short pants into Dean's mouth and dear Lord, that's sexy. Castiel, despite his obvious excitement (which Dean could feel pressing against his leg) and the needy noises he let out into Dean's mouth, was mindful of Dean's injuries. He kept his touches light, refraining from pressing too hard on his chest and side, mindful of his ribs. The broken nose, however, was much more difficult to avoid. Despite the frequent brushes and bumps of Castiel's nose against his, he barely felt the pain. He was too wrapped up in the kiss, the moment.

God, Dean could do this all day.


	9. I'm Back to the Lost and Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two days late, I know. If its any consolation, I'm sorry. I won't put a trigger warning on this one, because this chapter is very vague, but look out for that in the future. The title is from Aerosmith's You See Me Crying. Tell me what you think. Thanks for reading!

_ I'm Back to the Lost and Found _

The kiss lasted for what seemed like hours, Castiel and Dean locked in a bubble, all to themselves. They remained suspended together, content blocking out the world.

Castiel’s mind remained in a near dormant state, thinking only of Dean’s lips on his. They were soft and warm and delicious and  holy shit he’s kissing me. I kissed him and he’s kissing me back. And just like that, Castiel’s mind began running a mile a minute. He began analyzing, attempting to determine Dean’s motives. What did he want? A fling? A friend with benefits? A boyfriend? A lover? Shit. Was Dean single? It occurred to Castiel he didn’t even know. Dean could be taken.  Am I a homewrecker?  Shit. No… Dean didn’t seem the type. Despite Dean’s flirtatious nature, Castiel couldn’t see him as a cheat.

He sunk back into the kiss, all thoughts suspended once more. They moved against each other. Sometimes the kiss was urgent, as if they were running out of time. Their hands skated over each other, tracing the lines and angles of each other’s bodies. Other times they were hesitant, as if scared to cross whatever boundaries remained. They were like teenagers all over again.

Dean’s hands ran up and down Castiel’s sides, grasping at his hips and shoulders. They anchored him to the earth, keeping him steady, keeping him there. His hands moved to Castiel’s back, running down his spine. Dean’s hands brushed the small of his back, triggering flashes of memory within Castiel’s mind. Familiar scenes, replayed a million times in nightmares, flew by at a dizzying speed, tears pricking in Castiel’s eyes. He pulled back from the kiss, gasping with eyes wide. He looked down at Dean, taking in the swollen lips parting slightly and the confusion that lay within the emerald green.

“I…” The words tumbled from Castiel’s mouth between gasps for air. “I’m sorry… I can’t.”

He climbed slowly off Dean,  offering no explanation for his strange behavior. Dean opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it, shutting it with a snap. His eyes followed Castiel on his trudge across the cold floor, bare feet padding softly along. Dean watched as Castiel got into his bed, pulling blankets up and over himself, sheltered from the world. Behind Castiel’s eyes, horrible scenes played on repeat, filling him with a fear he hadn’t felt in weeks. Not since he had met Dean. All this passed unbeknownst to Dean, who lay in his own bed wondering what the hell he’d done wrong. 


	10. Please Say You'll Stick Around

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, another short chapter. I really am sorry! Starting next week, I will be posting on Wednesdays instead. I'm just too busy with school and Supernatural on Tuesday nights. Thanks for reading, let me know what you think!

_Please Say You'll Stick Around_

After what had transpired on Sunday,a thick tension loomed overhead. They only spoke when it couldn’t be avoided, an awkward “hey” when eye contact was made. But it never lasted long, Dean or Castiel’s eyes flitting away after only a moment.

There was an elephant in the room so obvious outsiders could sense it. Meg, when making her rounds, avoided conversing with Dean, only acknowledging him in the form of a brief nod. On Monday, Sam, Charlie and Dorothy visited. They split the visit in half, spending part of the time joking with Dean and part in small talk with Castiel. It all seemed so strained, so forced. An impenetrable barrier rested between them, sectioning the room into two.

Castiel left the following Tuesday. Dean knew it was coming, it still hurt. There was a knife in his chest, causing a hitch in his breath that just wouldn’t stop. Throughout the morning, as Castiel prepared to leave, Dean quenched it. He quenched the fire Castiel had ignited within him. He wiped Castiel from his memory, forcing it all to the curb. Dean wanted nothing more than to be rid of this… schoolboy crush. Castiel walked out the door, Dean offering up nothing but a shaky goodbye. There were no declarations of love, no pleads to stay. There was a silence, a minute pause before Castiel walked out of his life forever. And Dean let him leave. Who was he kidding? This man deserved better. Castiel would move on, find someone better. Dean wanted him to be happy, didn’t he?

Even so, Dean couldn’t help the lump in his throat, the stone dragging him down. He hadn’t known this man for long and yet he couldn’t picture a life without him.


	11. Whisky Man's My Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things first, I'm sorry for the longest hiatus ever. I lost my inspiration and any idea of where this was heading, but I think I've got it back. So thank you for your patience, I'm such a bad procrastinator.
> 
> Second: This one comes with a warning. Although its not too violent or graphic, if you are triggered by verbal and physical abuse as well as alcoholism/substance abuse and a just generally rough childhood, please don't read this. I love all my readers and the last thing I want to do is trigger someone.  
> The title of this chapter is taken from The Who's song 'Whisky Man'.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

_Whisky man's my friend,_

_He's with me nearly all the time_

Castiel stumbled into his apartment, flipping the light switch and plopping onto the sofa. He looked around, taking in the emptiness around him. His heavy eyes did nothing to shield him from the surrounding  void . There were no emotions in his belongings. They were as cold as an Ikea catalogue, an eerie scene too perfect to be real. 

Castiel had never realized until that moment how dreary his life was. He had no one. Any laughter within that room had happened long before his time. That apartment had held no joy, no sadness, no emotion while inhabited by a strange, lonely man.

After having enough invitations turned down, Castiel’s co workers resigned. They knew he wouldn’t accept their peace offerings of office parties, so his phone rang no more. His neighbors, their greetings rarely acknowledged, gave up as well. He had closed himself off, sheltered from the rest of the world, afraid of opening up.

God, Castiel regretted that. Now, in one of his darkest hours,  he needed a friend. He needed nothing more than someone to talk to, a shoulder to cry on. Dean had been that friend. But Castiel had screwed that up. And they would never see each other again. Castiel would never again see those freckles, those dimples, those eyes. It was no ones fault but his.

After the hospital, he began drinking. He had left it behind when he moved to Lawrence, vowing to never pick a bottle up again. But it had returned with a vengeance, and whisky was greeted like an old friend. It drowned the memories of the regret and the pain of his past. Still, in the mornings, with a hangover ringing through his head, they would return. He would walk to the mirror and, lifting his shirt, inspect the scars along his back and side. The scars were not a booze-fueled nightmare, but a reality.

Cas still remembered the first time it happened. That night Michael and Lucifer’s fighting was particularly bad, the obscenities carrying upstairs to where Castiel lay under his bed. Gabriel was gone, working a night shift to keep the electricity on. When the screaming got to be too much to handle, Cas snuck down the stairs and opened the door, leaving to spend the night sleeping in the park.

“-the fuhck’re you goin’?” Lucifer slurred from the other side of the room, bleary eyed and clenching a bottle tightly in his fist.

“I was just-”, Castiel started, his words interrupted by a sloppy punch along his jaw that sent him sprawling.

He curled into a fetal position, hands over his head, and endured the kicks his brother sent his way, all along his spine and legs. As a final blow, Lucifer smashed the bottle across his back, the glass leaving jagged cuts. He had left him there, bleeding in a heap on the floor.

When Gabriel finally returned home, he picked up Cas, weak from blood loss, and wordlessly cleaned him up. Gabe was killed a few weeks later, stabbed through his gut by his own brother, Lucifer. The abuse became more frequent, and more brutal. Castiel was often left shivering, frightened for his life. It wasn’t long before others noticed something was up, and Castiel was thrown headfirst into the foster system, leaving all he knew behind.

In his later teenage years, Castiel began spending time with the wrong people and ended up on the streets. He got addicted to a number of substances and had made a lot of enemies. That was where Pamela had found him, dying in a gutter. She gave him a place to live and helped greatly during his rehabilitation process. After he was clean, she provided him with a job at Kripke Publishing and a steady income. She always insisted it was what any decent person would do but, secretly, Castiel believed he could never even begin to repay her. Though they no longer lived together, she remained a positive influence in his life. 

But lately she had begun to notice things that troubled her. Castiel , normally punctual, had begun to frequently arrive tardy to work, sometimes late by hours.  Most of the time he would show up wearing a wrinkled and dirty suit, almost as if he had slept in it.He seemed to have receded into himself, even more reserved and morose than usual. Often, when they spoke, she would smell alcohol on his breath, regardless of the time of day. She didn’t know what he had gotten himself into, but she knew it needed to be stopped.

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, review if you liked it, review if you didn't! I would love to have some imput. Please tell me what you thought, and thanks for reading!


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